


Shifty

by EverBetter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU Shifters, Cats, Explicit in later chapters, First published work in this fandom, Later Canon divergence, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverBetter/pseuds/EverBetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People are born with a shifter counterpart, although most ordinary people cannot fully change. Those with dominant shifter genes, however, can stretch into their animal form. John Watson hasn’t been able to shift since Afghanistan due to injury and apathy. His cat is always present though, watching and waiting… for something, for anything, to interest him. Enter Mike Stamford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shifty

CHAPTER ONE

 

John wakes with the taste of blood on his palate. His breath comes in deep draws through his nostrils as he stifles a cry by biting firmly into his tawny forearm. His i-teeth tear into his flesh, drawing blood. He forces himself to ease off as he slowly sits up, swinging his feet over the bed. Drops of blood roll down to his wrist as he braces it against the edge of the mattress.

“Jaysus…” he huffs as his breath shutters. He blinks his eyes and promptly ignores the slight dampness. He licks his lips free of the salty flavor and just for a split second tastes sand, dirt, and blood. Spots swim before his vision.

He finds himself standing before his plain wooden desk, the drawer open. He stares down at his Sig and takes a cleansing breath, feeling his lean chest expand and contract with the warm damp air of his sanctioned flat. _The war is over for me. No more death. No more sand. No more sun. Nothing...all because of my blasted leg._

Even as the thought crosses his mind, his leg collapses under him and he scrambles for the edge of the bed, trying not to make a ruckus that will surely wake his neighbors behind the thin walls. “Bloody fucking thing…” he mutters under his breath as he rights himself, sucker-punching said limb in frustration.

Despite his best efforts to keep silent, his large predator neighbor slams a fist into the wall, a warning to remain quiet or else. The way-houses for veteran soldiers leave much to be desired in way of privacy and space. Not that John has a choice. All large predators who are able to shift are required to belong to a pack, or a pride, or a mob, or however the shifters identify themselves. The law is even stricter for veteran soldiers who can shift, although to be fair there are only about one in ten who can shift at all; and about one out of five who are larger predators.

John sighs. There is no getting to sleep now. His eyes land on the blinking clock. _Three in the bloody morning_. He scrubs his face, rubbing away the damp and the sleep. He flops back on the bed diagonally. The ceiling is the same, no matter how he looks at it. Getting out of this bloody animal shelter means finding a pride that will accept a crippled cat. _Good luck with that, mate,_ he thinks, and sighs again. The day ahead is sure to be boring. Nothing ever happens to him.

**********

The woman sitting across from him smiles slightly. A normal person would describe the stretch of her lips as kind, but all the motion manages to do is put John on edge. She can’t shift but he can see the reptilian cast in her features, from the way her eyes tilt just over her high cheekbones, to the narrow arch of her face. She is almost beautiful.

“How’s your blog going?” she asks as she clicks her pen slightly. She does this every time she speaks.

John purses his lips at this, recalling the taunt of the cursor blinking on the empty blog page from just this morning.

“Yeah good. Very good.” He glances away, eyes shifting around the slightly bohemian, mainly posh office. He attempts to think of something to say, but fails. He never really talks during these stupid sessions.

“You haven’t written a word have you?” Her eyes narrow further and the smile becomes just a bit more edged. She scribbles a note down onto the pad of paper. His file. But not the complete file. She isn’t privy to some of his military files; can’t be, or else the bloody thing would take two strong hands to hold and write in.

“You just wrote ‘still has trust issues’,” he observes. He thinks that might be an accurate observation. He can’t remember the last relationship he was actually invested in.

“And you read my hand writing upside down.” She gestures toward him with her pen, intent on proving a point.

Suddenly the strangest thing happens. His cat _stretches_ in his mind. He feels it flex its claws and his own nail cuticles tingle in response, a phantom reminder of the beast inside. It’s a strange time for the cat to wake up and John moves his eyes downwards, not wanting Ella to see the now predatory glint in his hazel eyes.

She continues, unaware of his discomfort. “You see what I mean?”

It is the first time in a long while that his cat has come to the surface. His lips part and he breathes in, letting the air coil along his tongue.

“John, you're a soldier,” she says softly. “It's going take you a while to adjust to civilian life. And writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you.” She pauses. “Your shifter half.”

John meets her eyes stoically.

“When was the last time you shifted?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. It is in his file after all.

John’s lips press together in a thin line, cutting off the airflow. He has been scenting her – a bit not good.

She sighs at his non-response. “Eventually your shifter half will come out. But you must learn what triggers it. To control it in a civilian setting. Please think about the blog.”

He sighs, but nods his consent, attempting to push the cat back gently as he rises to leave.

**********

John leans heavily on his aluminum cane as he makes his way from the small coffee shop next to Ella’s office. The day is brisk but refreshing. He takes a sip of the bitter beverage, and for once doesn’t feel the urge to spit it out. Not talking for an hour will do that to a man. He cuts across a small park, on his way to the Tube.

“John?” a cheerful voice calls, interrupting his journey. “John Watson?!”

John slows and debates whether to turn around or to just continue on. Ultimately he has nowhere to go, so he turns and watches as the portly fellow begins walking toward him with a big smile on his face.

“Stamford, Mike Stamford - we were at Bart’s together,” the man says. He smiles again, watching John expectantly.

John pauses for a moment, thinking - slowly an image of a much thinner man comes to mind.

“Ah yes, sorry,” he says finally. If memory serves, Mike’s shifter was a boar. “Right sorry, Mike! Hello.” John awkwardly transfers his coffee over to the hand already grasping his cane, holding the other one out for a handshake.

Mike beams, happy to be recognized. “I know, I got fat” he chuckles, gesturing to the rotund body he now possesses.

John makes a slightly uncomfortable sound and his leg twinges.  Mike looks John up and down; for the most part, John looks the same, except for the limp and the slight graying in his blond hair.

“I heard you were abroad getting shot at – what happened?” he asks.

“I got shot,” John replies, a deadpan expression on his face.

Mike’s face falls slightly at the dry reply and John feels like a heel. Mike has never been anything but kind to him.

“Care to join me for some coffee?” John asks, trying to make amends.

“A cuppa would be grand.” Mike smiles again, the snarky reply already forgotten.

Mike settles for a small stand that most likely offers burned coffee; he wants to sit quickly, out of respect for John’s injury, although neither man will ever admit it. They both settle onto a wooden bench, John a bit more than uncomfortable. He never does like to reminisce about the good old days, but Mike is kind, so he puts on a brave face and braces himself.

“So, are you still at Bart’s?” John prompts, preferring to get the first word in.

“Teaching now, yeah.” Mike pauses. “Bright young things like we used to be.” He smiles. “God I hate them.” John takes his cue and chuckles as Mike continues on. “What about you, just staying in town while you get yourself sorted?”

“I can’t afford London on an Army pension, not with the Ordinances,” John scoffs slightly.

“Ah, and you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else, not the John Watson I know,” Mike says lightly.

“I’m not the John Watson you knew,” John snaps.

Mike gives him a small smile even as John’s cat comes forward yet again and coughs. John flexes his fingers at the tingling and takes a sip of bad coffee even as Mike does the same.

“Can Harry help?” Mike asks softly. He knows how some of the way-houses can be.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” John scoffs. Harry has always been miffed that John has the dominant shifter genes; she’s turned to drinking to expose her animal in a more accepted manner.

“I don’t know,” Mike muses, trying to be helpful. “You could get a pack share or something.”

Pack shares are a fairly new concept, one based upon the idea that a pack doesn’t have to be made up of at least six members and can instead consist of as little as two. The only problem is, pack mates need to be strong in order to protect and defend against other, larger packs. This doesn’t exactly describe him right now.

He laughs a bit bitterly before responding: “Who would want me for a pack share?”

Mike just gives him a strange look; it’s almost a smile but his mouth is still open. He looks a bit stunned, as if he has just thought of something genius.

“What?” John prompts.

“Well...” Mike’s face solidifies into a grin. “You’re the second person to say that to me today.”

John feels his eyebrows rise. Well, that was interesting.

“Who was the first?” he says, cautiously.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fan fic to make it to the publishing phase! Please tell me what you think! This is the updated version, hopefully it's better ;D Thank you whosgirl22 for being my Beta and if you haven't seen her story, A Kiss at Last, CHECK IT OUT! Yummy.


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